Clearance (Poetry)

A dullish morning in the middle of October
unpromising yet the sun tries to push through
bend back the edges of grumpy clouds’ thin cover
and show a hopeful glimpse of heaven’s blue

It’s chill beyond the glass, the trees unmoving
no breeze to lift their leaves, they simply wait
to see what else this day might have to offer
as autumn’s sale of sunshine opens late

A few leaves flutter down — patience exhausted
their gold is spent, their veins have all run dry
whatever comfort a bright sky might lend them
they fail to claim — let go their hold and die

Pigeons come to queue along warmed branches
they peck and preen and snatch a chance to bask
in tepid streams of light they spread their feathers
and go about their ritual cleansing task

The season’s sweeping on towards its clearance
the odds and ends of summer lose their glow
while squirrels hunt for store’s last minute bargains
as closing time approaches all must go